


Pay every pleasure with a pain

by megyal



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-03
Updated: 2008-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is unable to feel pleasure without a good dose of pain; kink: masochism</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pay every pleasure with a pain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/rounds_of_kink/)

Matt opens his apartment door to John's persistent knocking and looks out with a fairly impassive expression, leaning on the door-frame. At least, he's _trying_ to be impassive, but John's been a cop for far too long and he reads a barrage of emotions in the kid's face: there's a brand of sharp, eager _want_, with a trace of reluctance. Other emotions as well, deeper ones, but John doesn't want to inspect those right now. They're too... _intense_. Matt steps aside without a word, letting him pass, and John shrugs off his coat as he steps in. The coat is heavy, and for good reason: it's cold enough to freeze a horse's balls out there. He hangs it up on the coat-rack and turns to face Matt again.

He's about to say something, some trite greeting to break this brittle silence (_How about them Rangers, kid?_ and the kid might answer: _Um, what?_); but Matt is apparently not in the mood for such clichés, because he punches John right in the mouth.

_Motherfucker._

**:: :: ::**

_"Let's go, Farrell," John snapped as he strode into the kid's apartment, pulling off his old, light jacket marked _NYPD_ on the back and hanging it on the tall, antique coat-rack that Lucy had found somewhere and had presented it to Matt for Christmas last year. "Come on, kiddo, ain't got all night."_

"Wow, McClane." Matt closed the door that John had just stormed through. "Good night to you too. What bee got all up in your ass?"

John turned and sent him a long, withering glare. "Are you going to stand there and talk, like you do all the time? Because if you are, these lessons are over right now, get that?"

"It's a lucky thing I know you're a huge bastard," Matt said conversationally, starting to move around the furniture in the living room, creating a clear space. "Here's the thing, though, I talk a lot. Deal with it. And don't just stand there, help me with this thing, man. Oh god, this chair is heavy. Why did I buy this chair? Jeez, it's like there's iron in it, or something. Like a shipload of iron. Or a shitload."

John gave an annoyed grunt and unceremoniously shoved the rest of Matt's furniture out of the way, which was thankfully not much. Matt stepped into the middle of the cleared space, bouncing around on his toes a little. He flashed a quick grin at John, who simply stared back at him wryly.

"So how do we do this?" The kid sounded eager and kind of happy to see John, which was real cute. He continued to bounce around on his toes, making a circle around John and jabbing out playfully. John dodged one that came close, diving under it and tackling Matt, grabbing him around his waist and bringing him down to the ground.

Matt landed with a great oof!_ However, he immediately began to thrash out wildly. He was a lot stronger than he looked, bucking and wriggling under John's weight, nearly escaping. John rolled his eyes and neatly rolled him over, pinning him to the floor with one hand twisted around his back, practically sitting on top of him. _

"Ow, ow, watch the shoulder, man. Owww. McClane, you're heavy_." _

John bent forward and murmured in his ear: "First lesson: You gotta have the element of surprise, kid."

Matt shivered for some reason, but he moved his head in a nod against the carpet. "Got it."

**:: :: ::**

John snaps his head to the left, trying to minimize some of the force behind the blow, but he still staggers back a little, rocked by Matt's solid and surprising right hook. The kid's fists are basically the same size as his, even though Matt is a little shorter and thinner, but Matt's been taught well, and he doesn't pull his punches. John runs his tongue contemplatively over his teeth, but he doesn't taste any blood.

He's hard; painfully so.

"That all you got?" he taunts a little breathlessly, slowly turning his face back towards Matt and Matt is upon him in moments, hooking one foot behind his and shoving John back. John's arms flail out and he drops onto his back between the low coffee-table and the sofa. His left elbow arm onto the glass surface and one of Matt's knees comes up between his spread legs, pressing against the taut curve of his balls.

"Fuck," John grunts as Matt bends forward, his mouth latching onto the skin of John neck; he bites down, _hard_. John groans loudly, feeling a little embarrassed about it in the back of his mind, but his cock thickens even more at the sharp, welcome pain, twitching insistently at front of his boxers, Matt's knee pressing and pressing.

**:: :: ::**

_"Don't waste time thinking about where you're going to hit," John advised, blocking nearly all of Matt's attempts to hit him. "That's your biggest problem, you think too much." _

Matt stopped trying and grinned tiredly, his hair sticking to his neck in damp tendrils. "In some circles, thinking too much is actually a great thing."

"Not when you need to take somebody out." John showed him three quick strikes in succession: neck, chest, groin, fingers digging into Matt's hip and spinning him around, putting him in a choke-hold. "Don't think. It's better sometimes to be fast than to be precise." He moved his hands, releasing Matt. "Come on, try again."

Matt remained pressed against him for a long beat, breathing shallowly. John could feel Matt's shoulder-blades pressing into his chest, moving with every inhalation and exhalation. John placed a hand on one of Matt's shoulders, thumb resting on the damp skin just above the curve of the blue t-shirt Matt had on. John bent his head a little, and if he moved his head any more, he would be able to press his mouth against that pale skin.

He pushed Matt away. "Let's go, kid."

**:: :: ::**

Matt knows just how to press his fingers into John's ribs, to pull his blunt fingernails against John's skin, quick, merciless movements that has John biting the inside of his lip, not wanting to pant and gasp like some needy shit. It's a close thing though, especially when Matt bites him again, this time on the curve of his shoulder, right through the cotton of John's shirt. He isn't saying a word; he never does when John shows up at his door at this hour of the night, as if a part of him has already gone to sleep, leaving this silent being capable of pushing _every single one_ of John's buttons.

He's biting at John's ear now and undoing John's jeans, shoving a hand down and curling his hand around John's cock and without thinking about it, because Matt's hand is so warm and tight and squeezing just a little too hard, John turns his head and presses his mouth against Matt's.

Matt goes still, pulling back a little and blinking at John. Then his face goes sweetly happy and he inclines his head to kiss John back, but he's doing it too softly, too wonderingly, and John wants to feel his mouth being stripped under a bruising attack. He wants to _feel_ it. Matt goes still again when John takes the kiss to a hard edge; he sighs a little and then follows suit.

John feels one of Matt's hand around his throat, tightening as much as his other hand clutching John's cock.

"Yes," he hisses against Matt's mouth, thrusting into that fist; Matt's other hand slips down from his throat to one nipple and pinches it cruelly through the material of John's shirt and shit, that _hurts_ but it's the best thing John has ever felt, because he's coming in hot, wet bursts, hips thrusting as he groans.

Matt pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes fixed on John's face. He gets up from where he was perched atop John and goes to the bathroom, closing the door quickly and leaving John to struggle up from the floor and collapse against the sofa. His back hurts, his boxers feel sticky and his throat is a lot sore, but John wants this all the time. He inspects the ceiling of Matt's apartment, wondering, not for the first time, what it is that _Matt_ wants.

**:: :: ::**

_"Wait, wait, I can't breathe," Matt complained as John literally knelt in his chest. "Wait, let me get my inhaler. I can't breathe, man."_

"You think that you can ask for your inhaler in the middle of a fight?" John laughed, but he still shifted his weight a little so that he wasn't pressing so much in Matt's chest. Matt reached up and grabbed him by the ears, tugging down and causing John to yelp in pain. Matt's hands wrapped around his neck, and they were rolling and tumbling, punching out and kicking. Matt had gotten quite good and John found himself on his back, Matt sitting triumphantly atop him, pinning him down by the throat.

"Ha!" Matt cried out and John squirmed, trying to shift Matt up and away from his crotch, feeling suddenly quite grim. He thought he had this under control, but obviously not. Matt laughed in snide delight and settled back in contentment, ready to gloat that after so many months, he had finally_ managed to pin the great McClane; instead, his eyes widened when his ass rested against the hard line of John's cock._

"McClane--"

"Get up."

"Wait, McClane. Wait, I can--"

"I said get up," John snapped. Matt shook his head, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

"No, I can... hey, let me take care of that. I... I want to."

John blinked up at him, at his earnest expression and then shook his head, chuckling darkly. "Tempting, Matt. But, no."

"Why not? Hey!" Matt squawked as John shoved him off, getting to his feet. Matt shot up as well, blocking John's escape. John crossed his arms and frowned. "John, don't pretend you're not walking around with a hard-on because of me_." Matt's face had a pleased cast to it even as he said this. "I mean, I was hoping...ok , but never mind. I can take care of your little, uh, problem." He leered and it looked so funny, but John kept down a little crazy bubble of laughter, because the whole thing was a lot serious._

"I got hard because you were beating the shit out of me," John said flatly. Matt gaped and John gave him a narrow grin; saying things like that always threw people off, even if it was the truth. "So, unless you're willing to do that all the time, we can forget all about this little episode."

"What?" Matt sounded a little shell-shocked as John pushed past him. "Wait, wait. McClane. Dude, wait. Wait! Don't, come on, tell me, man."

"Tell you what_?" John tried to go past, but Matt ran to the door and stood in front of it, spreading his arms and legs as if that could stop John, who rolled his eyes. He was always amused by this kid, honestly. "Give me a break."_

"Nakatomi Plaza," Matt intoned and John blinked at him, surprised that he reached that point so fast. Quick little shit; John folded his arms.

"Probably enjoyed it too much."

Matt's expression was contemplative. "And when that Mai chick tried to stuff your ass down an elevator shaft?"

John frowned at him and Matt actually laughed out loud.

"You don't get it, kid," John sighed. "So let's just leave it alone."

Matt didn't budge; his eyes were gleaming, though. "I get it. I get it, McClane," and he launched himself at John.

**:: :: ::**

John stands in front of Matt's bathroom door, listening carefully. He can hear Matt jerking off inside there, low strangled pants and then a quick series of grunts. John waits, and when Matt pops open the door, he comes face to face with John.

"Oh," Matt finally says, his voice scratchy. "Um. You're still here. Which is weird, because you... you normally leave. But I can live with that. I mean, I live with it, normally."

John just looks at him, and raises his eyebrows a bit. Matt scowls at him.

"What? Stop staring at me like that, you make me nervous when you do that." Matt squints at him suspiciously as John steps even closer and crowds up against him. He gazes down at Matt's expressive face, his wide brown eyes, before tilting his head and pressing their lips together. Matt kisses back hard, but John tries it slow and soft this time. Doesn't do much for him, he wants it to _sting_, but Matt seems to like it, the way he parts his lips and murmurs against John's mouth.

Matt pulls away, eyes hopeful and wary at the same time. John kisses him again, keeping it smooth and suddenly smirking against Matt's parted lips. It's not painful, it doesn't _hurt_ to do this, but... maybe it doesn't _have_ to hurt.

Matt puts a hand around John and then runs this hand down John's back, fingers clawed and bruising skin in their wake and John thinks, _oh god, Matt, you learn so fucking well_.

_fin_


End file.
